


swan's song

by synergies



Series: fakiru week 2018 [3]
Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: + canary mama for good surrogate mom 2k18, F/M, fakir's just.. barely there oops??, the first day i'm writing ahiru pov and we angst immediately, this was supposed to be happy!! and yet here we are oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 03:17:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16109657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synergies/pseuds/synergies
Summary: She may be no songbird, but when it comes to holding a tune— well, she does alright, she thinks. It’s the thought that counts, doesn’t it?( Alternatively: A little bird sings a song, and meanwhile, also tries to repay a favor )





	swan's song

### ( your last song is so bittersweet, dear )

She holds a sweet warble, a tune of no words, but pleasant nonetheless— well, pleasant until she breaks off abruptly, that is.

“This is too hard!” She wails to— an audience of seemingly no one, but there’s a bird on her shoulder, tweeting as it buries itself into locks of her hair. “Canary Mama, you’re so lucky that you don’t have think about things like humans do! Humans are so weird. And difficult! I just...” Ahiru trails off in another frustrated whine, head sinking back against the tree trunk. “Maybe I oughta stick to being a duck. Less difficult. It wouldn’t be so bad, right?” But even as she says that, she’s left with a bad feeling ( guilt ) in her stomach, because that means she avoided her purpose in coming here, even though no one technically knows that part ( so she shouldn’t feel so guilty about it ), but she does. So maybe it’s not so easy either way. Canary Mama starts chirping at her again, but she hardly has a moment to make sense of her comments, a voice cutting through her thoughts.

“Ahiru, you’re going to be late again.”

“Eh?” Sure enough, she can hear the sound of bells going off, for the turn of the hour— meaning she was already almost late. She wails for the umpteenth time that morning, quick to get to her feet and bolt off in the direction of town. “Why didn’t you warn me sooner, you jerk!”

* * *

One might wonder what kind of task would be so important to bring her so much guilt— or perhaps, what a little bird like her was doing here in the first place ( not the mention being human ).

She remembers the sound of gunshots, the sound of panicked squawks and hurried flapping of wings. The scent of gunpowder in the air and the deafening silence that had followed. The smell of blood as deep red lingered in the water.

She remembers hiding in the reeds, found only by chance by a pair of humans. Sure, her wing had never fully healed from the incident, but— she’s not sure she would have survived without them.

Was it so wrong then, that given the chance to do so, she wanted to repay that kindness? She doesn’t think so; accepting the pendant that was offered to her with little hesitation.

Remember, little duck. The man had spoken to her as the necklace was lifted above her head. You cannot let anyone know what you really are. Once you have granted your wish, you will go back to being a duck.

That seems fine to her. Repay a favor, be human for a little while, then go back to being a duck for the rest of her days. That seems like it is simple enough.

( And sure, it might not be the same level of kindness that she so fondly remembers, but the fact that she, a little lost and way in over her head is taken in without much question, proves that kindness remains nonetheless )

As it turns out, nothing is ever that easy.

* * *

“Are you looking for something?” Ahiru asks when they end up at the lake for the third time that week. It’s not necessarily a bad thing— it is her actual home, after all— it just feels a little weird to be there when she’s not a duck.

“...No, it’s nothing.” Fakir says in the way that she knows he’s lying, the telltale furrow in his brows; but she doesn’t say anything about it. “Usually the birds are more active around here... I suppose most of them have moved on for the season. You said you like birds a lot, don’t you?”

Oh— was he... doing this for her? Now she feels like she might’ve been a little ungrateful, when that was far from the truth.

“No— I mean, yeah, I do!” She’s quick to latch onto his hand with her good arm, cheeks flushed as Ahiru beams up at him. “I really, really do! And I like coming out here with you! But...” She looks down at her feet. “It’s a hassle to come all the way out here, right? I’m happy enough with all the stuff in town.”

He’s silent after that, and she’s worried she might’ve upset him, and she opens her mouth to start to apologize when a hand rests atop her head. “Let’s head back home. We’ll be late for lunch.”

( Ahiru doesn’t notice when he spares once last searching look behind them as they leave )

* * *

Ahiru doesn’t remember to ask Canary Mama what she means until much later, when she puts out a bowl of feed for the birds— it was a compromise they had settled on, even though she has a good feeling that the birds gathering around the house isn’t much better.

In between pecks the canary offers clarification on what she means. “If it is so hard for you, my child, then why don’t you try doing things the way birds do? Perhaps you don’t have the nicest plumage to show off—” She gets interrupted by a very indignant sounding squawk from Ahiru. “But there are other options. You could sing? Or, or, you’ve been dancing, haven’t you? Humans seem to like to dance together!” A few of the other birds chime in with a chitter of agreement ( she’s got no clue if they’ve got any clue what’s actually being talked about, but they’ve always been gossipy little things, so she’s not surprised they’re involving themselves anyways ).

Belatedly, she realizes what the songbird means, expression almost horrified as she wails into her hands ( moreso of the conclusion they had reached, not... the actual thought of it— that’s besides the point, though ). “I’m not trying to woo him! I just want to make him happy!” To make him happy was the only way she could think of expressing her gratitude— though, she supposed that regardless, her suggestions aren’t horrible to consider.

At the very least, she hopes it’s okay to be a little selfish in asking things to stay this way a little longer, while she tries to find the strength to do what she needs to do.

( ...Even if it was just a teasing comment, she can’t help but feel a little hurt— and self conscious— about her coat of feathers.

Bird or girl, was she ever really beautiful enough? )

* * *

Nothing good lasts very long— that is how the saying goes, is it not?

She frets ( one of the few things she is good at doing ) as she helps wrap his wounds. No big deal, he says, but she has a hard time believing it. Is your arm doing better, Fakir asks instead, and she musters up her best smile as she pretends like it is ( it’s not, it won’t ever be, but she doesn’t like him worrying over her when he should be the focus here ).

She hears what the townspeople says about her; showing up all of the sudden, little to her name. What if she’s a witch, they whisper, a fiery-haired witch that will bring ruin to their town.

Was it maybe her fault, then, that he was hurt? Was it in her name that he was hurt?

( Ahiru doesn’t know, but— she needs to hurry. Hurry before it is too late. )

* * *

She isn’t surprised when the solution to her problems comes in the form of the man at the lake, again. Her feet dip into the water, idly splashing up water while she talks. “It’s been getting worse lately. I’m worried... something bad’s going to happen soon.”

And of course, he seems to have the answers already for her. “There’s one last thing you can do, you know... at a price.”

* * *

Step one, pluck some of your feathers. Not all of them, but enough to weave into a small cloth. Add a lock of hair of the intended if you need extra luck.

( It is painful, but— this is nothing, she thinks. )

Second, collect your tears into a small container, and wear it around your neck. Do not make a single noise as you work.

( And it is hard to be quiet when she is used to speaking, chittering; some kind of constant noise, but she will be silent and work diligently ).

Third, when the moon is at its highest point in the night, place the cloth on the intended's chest, clasp the vial within your hands, and sing a pray.

( And it is a soft croon that falls from her lips— if he awakens before she is done, it will all fall apart )

Last, know what you want to say.

( Tears run down her cheek, but she is not sad, no. She is happy— so happy to have done something worthwhile ).

“Thank you,” She whispers to someone who cannot hear her. “And goodbye.”

**Author's Note:**

> So. I was supposed to rewrite this day’s stuff but I ran out of time by the time I finished up most of the stuff for the rest of the week. This is something that originally started off for day 2, diverged from there, and then diverged again so here we are. This was supposed to end happy, with her using an alternative method to become human permanently... you can see that didn't happen. Sorry.
> 
> Ballads are also defined as romantic or sentimental songs, which is more or less where this somehow falls into there.
> 
> Since this was retelling originally, lemme give context as to where that came from! This was originally supposed to be loosely based on the ‘animal repays favor’ narrative that are common in ( East? ) Asian folklore, particularly the grateful crane / crane wife variant in Japanese folklore ( and just barely referencing the swan maiden-esque folklore + some other lore I can’t think of atm )


End file.
